THE QUESTIONNAIRE
Ivan Kmínek
Early in the morning my boss put on my desk a thin volume in a blue company
cover with stars on it.“This thing came by epsilon-channel from the Central
Office of the Universe a while ago,”he said.“Get started,Mr. Assistant.You have
the whole afternoon for it.”
So I asked Sonja to make me a big cup of
strong coffee and I began to study the documents.
The title read “Destined for all civilizations.”
“The Questionnaire we enclosed for you to
fill in will serve as a deadline for an on-coming rdeal for those civilizations
that do not correspond with present-day great claims upon conscious beings.Please
fill in all the points of the Questionnaire.Do not cross out anything.Remember
that citation of false r untrue statements is severely punishable.
Finally please return the completed questionnaire
in triplicate to this address:The Central Office of the Universe,worldpoint
Alpha 111 00.” I did not like the coffee at all.I sipped several hot draughts,immediately
took the first form and insterted it into the typewriter.Then I filled in our
data and rewound the paper.
“PURPOSE OF BEING:”the first item of the
Questionnaire sounded out. Hmm.I realised I would probably have to do a bit
of hard thinking,t limber up my brain a little.I decided the best thing to do
was to make a draft,and I picked up a business pad.
In about five minutes I had drafted nothing
but a striped cylinder with antennae.No doubt due to my hunger,I realized.“Sonja,could
you buy me something to eat?”I asked the secretary who was just preparing to
g out.“Two sandwiches with sardines and a piece of pie,ok?”
“Not today,darling,”Sonja whispered.“I have
to buy raisins in brandy for the boss.”
“Raisins in brandy?”I asked,both casually
and enviously.
“Exactly.Excuse me,I’m in a hurry.”She finished
her make-up and left. Annoyed,I took up my work.“Mr.Böhm,can I ask you a question?”I
said and turned to my experienced colleague.
“Of course,”said Mr.Böhm wearing a frown.He
was working.W rking hard.
“Mr.Böhm,what is the purpose of our civilization?”
“Nothing.”
“I can’t write that here,though”I said.Mr.Böhm
only shrugged his shoulders.
“And what about ther civilizations?”I inquired
clutching at straws.“Do they have a purpose?”
“Certainly,”Mr.Böhm said.“Elsewhere it is quite
common,they say.” My colleague’s powers of elaboration seemed to be exhausted
for the moment and I lapsed into melancholy.And time dragged on. I looked out
f the window at a rainy street,at the scruff of Mr.Böhm’s neck,at an ily wrapper
that used to contain yesterday’s lunch,thinking how best to fill in the first
item f the Questionnaire.The main thing was not to incense anybody at the Central
Office of the Universe,I realized.If they learned that humankind had no purpose,who
knows how we might fall out during the on-coming purge.So I decided to leave
that slippery column blank and shifted the form several pages lower.
“NAME AT LEAST THREE GOOD REASONS
FOR YOUR EXISTENCE:” Gosh!What a teaser again.I meditated and speculated and
began to doubt whether I was,by all means,competent enough to complete the Questionnaire.And
my forehead became sweaty.
“Mr.Böhm,”I whispered,“do you know some good
reasons for our existence?”
“Look,young man,you’ve got your own head,haven’t you?”
So I remained completely on my own. At ten o’clock I cleared out and went to
the boss.I told him that I didn’t feel confident enough to do the job.
The boss tried to talk me out f it.He explained
to me that I couldn’t betray his trust at such a moment.He said that he was
also aware f the disproportion between the grave implications f the Questionnaire
and the grim schedule for its completion,but he couldn’t do anything about it.
And finally he shook my hand. So I came back to the typewriter,in low spirits,and
looked at the next item on the Questionnaire.
“A PLAN OF A ACTION FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS:”
One question is more stupid than another,I fumed.But I knew what t do:I would
write “we were and we will be”and they’d think no more f it!
I unbosomed my idea to Pavel.I told him
I would make fun of the Questionnaire and sneer at its absurd cosmic paperwork.
“For God’s sake!Are you mad?”Pavel fretted.“I’ll
tell you something,boy- Proterons from the Third Galaxy Anomaly also thought
they would quiz the Central Office of the Universe and they wrote on some circular
note a little of their Proterons’vulgarity.A week later their star exploded
to supernova!”
“It could have been just an accident,”I
said,unpleasantly surprised. “An accident?T sh!”Pavel exclaimed in all seriousness.“Think
about every word,boy!You’re playing a risky game!”..........